"Here is my secret. It is very simple: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.."- Antoine de Saint Exupéry

Flower

Writing Round Silences

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There’s a skylight ajar

Mirroring Heaven.

 

Brick and mortar stop embracing each other

Where no trace of tombstones remains.

 

Light pours in with the sun

And sliding on the rain dripping from God’s eye.

 

Fire tumbles down on rose petals

Floating on His Ghost on Pentecost.

 

All the holy spirits

Rejoice here in His Presence.

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55 words, Poem and photos memyselfandela/ Adela Galasiu 2017/2018

Italy, Rome, The Pantheon. On Pentecost rose petals are dropped through the Pantheon Oculus as a symbol of the fire of  the Holy Ghost.


Rest. Rewind. Resilience

Thought of the day: Regardless of what you believe deep inside, that you can make it or not, YOU ARE RIGHT!

There’s a time for work, for words and definitely for thoughts in between. After my year off to explore life, I am now back with more energy than ever and hopefully with more wisdom as well. Having taken some time to rest and rewind, the consequence was a greater resilience but also the epiphany that life is much simpler than we think it to be. We are the authors of the complications and we are the blind paying for it too.

It finally feels like spring. An even though there are battles to be won and tasks to be accomplished, it all starts with a grain of hope. Or a grain of trust in our own ability to make it.

There are many people out there who work very hard, yet who (captive in their own existence) cannot see the wood for the trees. They never understand how important they are for others and this is because nobody has ever told them what a great job they do or what incredible abilities they have to make this world a better place with their efforts, every day.

This thought goes out to all those quiet awesome people who do not know how great they are because they are humble. Who may not even appreciate how hard they work because nobody gives them a kind word. They may not trust themselves because nobody else trusts them.

If you know any of those people, do a great thing today: Tell them a big THANK YOU for being themselves. Tell them to carry on because they make such a difference. And tell them to believe they will make it. And it will happen.

 

300 words and Photos: Memyselfandela/ Adela Galasiu, April 2018


Believe

 

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Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy having written.

My silences breed stories.

I translate my dreams and memories, though I often write for others

making their voice sound good.

At the end of each day, I re-visit my thoughts,

straining them, planting them, feeding them.

When I was a child, I believed anything was possible.

I’m now growing that seed in a flowerpot.

 


63 words, Adela Galasiu 2016

Photo: http://littlecottonrabbits.typepad.co.uk/


Life

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I have looked death in the eyes few times. For others but also for myself. I have been often told that there’s no God and no afterlife, but folllowing my encounters with death I guess I am too convinced of the contrary to listen to those sceptic voices. I do respect what other people think, but respecting others will never reduce my beliefs to nothing, on the contrary.

Most of the people have an absolutely disgusted look on their face when they hear about death. Some venerate it. Some fear it to the extent that they don’t even want to think about it. We’re all aware it exists. Most of us cannot understand it. But the same death that means decay, foulness, nothingness and still, is part of us just as much as it has been part of our ancestors too.

People turn their face away from death because they are scared or because they have been taught that it can bring disease or that it is unclean. Or because they prefer to concentrate on the life, rather than see the whole process, black and white, doing and undoing, life, death and new life again. For the immediate you and me, what matters is today, what we do, what we have, what we eat, where we go. But we live in a society that is equally one of death as much of one of life, isn’t it? Or maybe even more one of death than one of life? We eat meat, we cut flowers, people hunt, people get cremated and buried or offer their bodies to science. People sell weapons and wars are being fought. Some people thrive while others starve to death.

There is not only the beauty and goodness daily put on display for sales targets, but also the reverse side of it all. There are not only new born babies and blooming flowers, but also dead people laid to rest and entire systems that revolve around death itself.  From the undertakers that earn a fortune while dealing with grieving families to the little beetles that eat decaying flesh, all have a little part in it.

Some of the birds that have nested last year have died, and a suite of insects and plants contribute now to taking apart and redistributing every material atom of them. Every little creature and plant that dies gets quickly surrounded by a cortege of creatures, just like a circus that comes to town and gets very busy before the show. Behind the scenes of it all nothing gets saved or lost, but everything is transformed in new matter for life, and so new life can find the raw minerals needed for it to emerge again.

Many years ago, as I was dealing with the water that was trying to find its way into my lungs, I had forgotten who I was or what I wanted from life. What I had eaten that morning or what I had in my bank account had no meaning at all. It was all worthless and the only thing I could gasp for was a breath of air. I was, I guess, not different than a wounded bird that beats its wings one more time before it takes a last breath. A little part of me knew that it could have been the final moment that day. And yes, it was scary. Scary because I had no idea what was about to happen. Horribly scary because I had no control over my own life. There and then I was not ready to give up. Between few heartbeats and a hope for air it occurred to me that I had not appreciated life truly until then. And God how I wanted to live!

In a mysterious way, a hand has been stretched my way. Not only a friendly material hand, but also a divine one. Then, when I finished coughing, with a horrible salty aftertaste and a stomach full of seawater, feeling sick and wet, I thought that it was not the time to go just yet, not until I would have learned the lesson of what life was all about. I think I was determined to take life more seriously.

I think I understand life and death more now, but like any person that has been sightless for many years, I am now awfully blinded by the intense light of the truth. That moment of salvation, the spark of life in my veins and the thought that accompanied them cannot be the result of an evolutionist theory, they are rather a mystery that my human mind is not ready to embrace just yet.

Other creatures are unaware of the realities of our human life. Birds and animals and plants cannot understand our complicated life and needs, our food, our languages, our customs.  They do not consider themselves the greatest in the universe like we do. They have no idea what mathematics or science are, yet they are very much alive and lead a simple happy life. There are a limited number of neurons in our skulls, how could they possibly perceive the infinity of the universe? It is impossible. I am convinced that us humans cannot understand the whole complexity of life, all the dimensions that surround us, all the beauties of the universe and even less the mystery and greatness of the Creator of it all.

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900 words, Adela Galasiu, 2016

Photography: Adela Galasiu, May 2016

 

 


Blossoms

Spring blossoms
crashing (neu)roses,
defrosting (syn)apses and dreams.

Flowers explode
in renewed life
from the ancient mud.

Leaves waltz stormy with the light
Bees rest tired feet for a spell
before conquering another petal.

Sit and listen.
be humble. be grateful.
you are. now. alive.

…………………………………

45 words, Adela Galasiu, May 2016

Photography: Adela Galasiu , April-May 2016

 

 


Purple Rose & Light

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Photo: Purple Rose & Light , Adela Galasiu, March 2016


March

A gentle thought to all the women in the world

Mothers and sisters,

Young girls and grandmothers.

March is the month that celebrates you all,

Your kindness and love,

Your beauty and your smiles.

Our life would be nothing without you.

May the ones in your life love and cherish you

As you rightly deserve.

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Photo: Camelia, by Adela Galasiu, February 2016, Isle of Wight, UK.


Silence

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Photo: Silence, Adela Galasiu, August 2015


Moment

Motto: “If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start…
It’s the only good fight there is.”  Charles Bukowski

 

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Today is a gift. I am grateful to be here, feeling alive. I breathe in. I listen to a ring-dove singing in the tree next to me. I take in the air, the light, the smell of yesterday’s rain. Bumblebees come out sleepy trying to make up for the food they could not collect yesterday, hovering over lavender bushes and peppermint flowers that wave gently in the breeze. God smiles over us. The sun shines through the branches of the chestnut tree, my flowers bloom in the garden, their colours vibrating live a song in my eyes. Maybe they are, just like me, a part of God’s dream. Or maybe they are just a form of different frequency than the one of my soul. Maybe they are just strings that God plays with , like one plays a harp. It all makes sense, even though often my mind cannot even grasp the beauty of it all.

I drink a glass of water and contemplate life, like I do every once in a while, like we probably all do. Some people think that knowing that time is precious can make you lead a better life. What would I tell you if this would be my last day?

I’d say I’ve lost many things in this life, and sometimes it has felt like I’ve lost it all. Friends, time, love, children, relatives, sometimes even my mind. I’ve eaten too much or nothing for days. I’ve eaten my own bitterness and I drank the poison of my own ink-black thoughts. I’ve been freezing in train stations and on park benches thinking of why certain things happened in my life, feeling sorry for myself. I thought I was sometimes carrying too much luggage, but I think that was more the burden of my own life. Yet I have found out later that many of those things I’ve never really had, that they were never meant for me.

I have seen derision. And it was not the one coming from strangers that has hurt the most, but the one seen in the eyes of people I have helped out of their own ditch and considered friends. They say in my language that “the ones you don’t let die, will not let you live”. It was painful to find out what character some people really had. it has been gutting at times. Now it does not hurt any more, I have come to terms with all my experience. I have become older and hopefully wiser. I have learned not to regret things and I am mostly good at it, even though I can still catch myself doing it sometimes. I’ve often done my best and I know now that what people give is certainly what people will receive later in life.

Isolation? It is not a monkey thing. It feels sweet. It is not for everybody, I know it can be torture for others. But solitude is my gift. After all the pain induced by many things coming from the outside, my isolation meant discovering myself and finding peace, listening to my own soul tuning in with the one of the universe. And that is bliss.

Rejection? Yes, I felt plenty of that. I was one of those people that can feel like outsiders. Until I realised that I would have never belonged in certain circles of people or in the toxic environment that comes with them. So actually this was not a rejection, it was a discovery. It took me years to see that God had better plans for me , that He was opening me the right doors while I was trying like a stubborn child to open the wrong ones, again and again.

This is my path and you all have your own. Life is a journey. Some people learn from it, others get to the end of it not understanding anything, feeling bitter and angry. It may not be easy to walk on your own path, but it’s your quest. It all depends on how much you want it. And if you want it truly it will be better than anything you have ever imagined. It will equal conquering all your fears, it will mean finding your true self and facing God at the same time. Your days may be hard, but your heart will flame with the fire of all the passion you have in you. It will not be life that breaks you, but it will be you riding your own life.

I am only a tiny soul in an immense ocean of souls. All different, yet all the same. When I think of this I imagine a sky full of stars. The universe is immense, but we all have our own space, our own inner light and our own trajectory. I am trying to grasp what this life experience is all about, maybe just like you all. I’ve seen a lot and I still know almost nothing. But one of the few things I know now is that we should not be afraid, we should not let worry dry out our soul. Life is joy and we should experience the joy of being alive, the experience of our soul having a material body and interacting with others.

There’s no path, make your own. Be bold, be strong, be yourself. Try it, go all the way, it’s the best thing of all.

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900 words, memyselandela, August 2015

Photo: Lavender, Adela Galasiu, August 2015


Red



IMG_2579IMG_2761IMG_28132IMG_0703Photos: Adela Galasiu – memyselfandela, 2015


Water lily / Nufar

The beauty in God’s dream
slowly blooms, petal by petal,
watched quietly by the whole being
in a breath of silent bliss.

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Frumusetea din visul lui Dumnezeu
Infloreste incet, petala cu petala,
privita tacut de o intreaga faptura
intr-o rasuflare de beatitudine fara zgomot.

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22 words / 22 de cuvinte , Memyselfandela – Adela Galasiu, August 2015

Photo: Memyselfandela – Adela Galasiu, August 2015


Heart / Inima / Coeur / Herz

The Heart is

Nothing but a bunch

Of feelings.

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Inima nu e altceva

Decat un buchet

De sentimente.

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Le coeur n’est rien

Qu’un bouquet

De sentiments.

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Das Herz ist

Nichts als ein Strauß

Der Gefühle.

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9 words, English, Romanian, French, German – Memyselfandela/ Adela Galasiu, July 2015

Music: Dinu Lipatti playing Chopin Barcarolle for piano in F sharp major op 60 B 158, Youtube

Photos: Photobucket


The Return to Innocence

Memory. One of the strongest muscles in our being. It can contract and ruin your life crushing you underneath or it can gently lift your soul in the light, no matter what life throws at you.

When I was a child my grandmother used to have in a corner of her garden a columbine that used to grow again and again every year. I remember how fascinated I used to be as a little girl by the filigree shape and the delicate yet robust structure of this flower. I could study it day after day when it bloomed or when it’s petals were falling. I used to be very caring with the flowers. And when I say flowers, I mean beings, living creatures that I respected deep in my child’s heart. It never ceased to amaze me and make me happy whenever I saw it, because only there, in that corner of the garden, hidden in shadow under a lilac tree one could have found my columbine. There were no others, it was unique and the neighbours had none. It’s incredible how simple things that adults don’t even notice can be such an awesome thing for a child.

Many years I grew up with the beautiful columbines, studying them as they opened their purple-blue flowers. Columbines meant holiday, freedom and childhood. Not in so many words, but with a warm cosy feeling deep within. Words meant nothing then, only the heart was full of feelings and of a light that an adult is losing somewhere on the way.

This year I was contemplating my bare garden, frozen and with no trace of life. Then suddenly an incredible invisible force, a singular touch of grace has awaken the life in the sleeping buds and wrinkled flowers that rose their heads and stretched their beings in the warm sunshine. Then mesmerised I have discovered hundreds of columbines.

Is it God’s message that life is beautiful and full of diversity on a multitude of layers at the same time? Or is it just a cosmic coincidence? No matter what it is, it has brought back to me that warm cosy feeling in the midst of a busy life full of stress. The morning when I saw the columbines bloom I felt how one must feel when they win the lottery. To others this means nothing. To me it means the return to innocence.

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400 words, memyselfandela,  June 1st 2015

Photo: Adela Galasiu, May 2015


Columbines

           Photos:  Adela Galasiu,  May 2015


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Black & White

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Silence

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Kew Gardens for Palm Sunday

As today in  Romania people celebrate all those with flower names, today I offer you all a lot of flowers and bloom.

Enjoy the spring and may your hearts bloom just the same.

Love and Light,

Ela

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Photos: Adela Galasiu, 2014


Monday Morning Sunshine

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Last Rose

Behind the fences of my soul
Where foxes did not need to hunt
And hares lived in bliss
I had grown you my garden of roses.

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The wolf and the lamb in my heart
Were living always together,
No affliction or fear had come upon them
In the quiet shelter of this world.

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You have come and then left like a thief
Greedily taking my defenses, merciless crushing my peace.
Now that I’m broken and cold like a dying stone,
Away from all sanctuary, my heart blooms your last rose.

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Photos: Adela Galasiu

90 words, memyselfandela, 2014


Flower Cascades

Have you ever doubted that life is beautiful? This is life. 🙂

Fuchsia1 Fuchsia2 Fuchsia3 Fuchsia4 Fuchsia5 Fuchsia6 Fuchsia7Photos: Adela Galasiu

Memyselfandela, June 2013


Silence

heavy white snows of silence fall like a blessing
covering us when you hold me,
my heart, pressed flower that will never decay
between your secret pages.

dreams flow across my burning sky of night
and all the nightmares fade when you look my way.
rebelling fears fall aside silent, broken, cursed to die
in forgotten corners where anguish dwells.

on heavenly strings my soul plays the unheard ode
of all my universe getting born again and again,
blooming as I close my eyes and melt in the sweetest sleep,
safe in your arms, hidden in soul, home at last.

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100 words, memyselfandela, December 2013


Orange Dream

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In a dream love is a vivid wild flower
enveloped in a passion that can devour
with the delicacy of the bud of an orange
left outside hanging by a rusty old hinge
with the sweetness of a smart cookie
and the silliness of the worst rookie.

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memyselfandela, September 2013


Textures

 

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Yellow

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